Autograph
by sarahhaley
Summary: The journalists and paparazzi find Danny Phantom - again. But this common event couldn't possibly escalate into a huge problem… Could it?
1. Paparazzi

**A/N: OK, so I'm back with a new story! Which, by the way, is completely, stupidly irresponsible of me because I have lots of projects going on in quite a few of my classes, and I still have to write the epilogue to ****_Photoshop..._****But do you know what? I DON'T CARE! HA! This idea just hit me, and I absolutely ****_had _****to get writing before I lost any inspiration!**

**Summary: The journalists and paparazzi find Danny Phantom - again. But this common event couldn't possibly escalate into a huge problem… Could it?**

**~oOo~**

"**_Ohmygosh! _**It's _Danny Phantom!_" Someone from below shouted, just loud enough for the airborne Danny to catch on the rushing wind.

A few audible gasps could be heard coming from the other people on the streets. All were radiating pure joy, surprise, and awe. Danny looked down, towards where the shouting was coming from. Already, a crowd had gathered, just to watch him and try their best to follow him around. Flashes of light erupted like lightning from the growing mass of bodies below him. The photographers had already arrived.

_Oh, great. Here we go again,_ He thought bitterly. Danny paused to wave for only a millisecond, but then zoomed off as fast as he possibly could go, almost breaking his record speed.

Nowadays, he spent almost all of his patrol hours trying his best to ignore the disturbingly obsessive adulation that the citizens of Amity Park were now all so accustomed to giving him. Why in the world did they like him so stinkin' much? Well, sure, he did spend all of his time saving lives, taking care of the impending ghost threats, and being... well, sort of marvelous. But that wasn't the point.

Danny kept on flying, nearer to the ground this time, turning invisible, going intangible through a building, winding around randomly, doing anything that he could think of to try to lose the ever-growing crowd of paparazzi. But every corner that he went around, every single new street that he appeared on, another cluster of people were there, as if they had been standing around waiting for him. He even landed a few times, just to see if he could find a place to transform, but he kept on getting interrupted by more phans.

And he was starting to get really irritated.

So, after a quick plan developed in his brain, up Danny started to fly. Up and up and up he went, higher into the darkening sky. The cold, autumn air whipped through his silver hair, blowing it all into his face. His green eyes became teary from the gusting atmosphere that was constantly hitting his face, so he closed them and left his other senses to enjoy the feeling of flight. The sound of yelling people disappeared below him, the wind started to pick up, the roar of the wind played louder in his ears, and he began to feel free again.

Until he smashed into a brick wall.

Well, it wasn't _literally_ a brick wall. It just kind of felt like it. No, it was, in reality, more like the cold, hard metal of a helicopter. A _news_ helicopter. One that was probably, at the moment, completely devoted to trailing him. Once Danny composed himself and gushed at the cameras for a split second, he bolted off once again, pushing himself to go even faster than before.

**~oOo~**

It was starting to get late. Not_late_ late, but the sun was begining to go down, and after almost an hour of non-stop, big-scale hide-and-seek-tag, Danny was completely exhausted. All of that rushing around was _so_ tiring. Sure, it wasn't a ghost fight or anything, but still. Although ghost fights do use up a ton of energy, it's not the same as zooming around at top speed for such a long time. And when he finally found a quiet street, Danny decided to touch down.

As his feet hit the ground, Danny took a quick pan of his surroundings. Everything on this side-street looked... nice.

_It's empty. Not filled with crazy, squealing phans. Just a vacant, nice, quiet street…_ Danny turned around, wanting to find an alleyway where he could transform, when his gaze landed on something.

_Wait…_

Danny froze right where he was, and he couldn't help but groan a little to himself. For sitting right in front of him on the front steps of an old, brick townhouse was a young girl. She couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. Big brown eyes looked up from the book that she was writing in, and upon seeing Phantom, those young eyes immediately lit up. She stopped writing and stared at him with her mouth hung open in disbelief.

"It… it's… You. You're Ph-Phantom," she whispered, only a little nervous stutter present in her voice. "I know you. You're on th-the T.V."

Danny looked at the girl and listened to what she was saying. He just got that feeling, like he almost wanted to melt under the small girl's cute innocence. The slightly annoyed mind-set that he had been feeling when he first saw her quickly disappeared.

"Hello, citizen!" He said, quieter than he usually did, which almost broke his hero's character voice. He then slowly walked up to her, putting a kind smile on his face so he wouldn't scare her away.

The girl just sat quietly and let him approach. She eyed him as he came forward, but didn't seem too scared. When he was finally only a few feet away, a grin suddenly burst onto her face.

"Um, Mr. Phantom? Can… Can you sign this?" She gently held out the pen and the journal that she was writing in.

Danny looked at the girl, then up and down the street. There wasn't any sign of the paparazzi, and it wasn't like he was in a complete hurry to get home, so…

"Eh, why not?" He took the pen, and started writing. "Now, what is your name?" He asked, pausing for a moment.

"Um… M-Maddie."

"Okay… Maddie…" He said slowly as he wrote down her name in whatever message he was writing.

"You know, I know a very nice lady named Maddie," Danny began, which made the girl beam.

"Really?"

"Yup!" He bit his top lip as he wrote, taking a considerable amount of time getting his Phantom signature just right.

"There you go!" He said, finally done. He then handed the journal back to Maddie, who took it with shaking hands. Danny stood there as she read the message slowly out loud.

"'Eat your v-veggies, Maddie! Your f-friend, Danny Phantom.'" She looked back up at him, her attention leaving the booklet completely. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Phantom!" She squealed, her eyes starting to tear up with joy.

"Just call me Danny. It's fine."

She nodded her head enthusiastically, "Thank you, D… Danny! Danny Phantom!"

She skipped back up the steps to her front door and ran inside, only flashing a quick , laughing grin over her shoulder one more time. Once the door closed, Danny could just make out a muffled "Mommy! Daddy! Guess what just happened!"

Danny smiled to himself in satisfaction and started going along on his merry way, deciding to call the rest of the patrol off. Besides, he was already tired from a few ghost fights earlier that day, and if his ghost sense didn't go off anytime soon, then he wasn't going to waste any more time flying around and attracting even more unwanted attention. If he did get home without any inturruptions, then maybe he would actually get some sleep tonight. Maybe he would have time to work on his homework for once. Maybe those wild paparazzi people wouldn't find him before he was able to change into Fenton. Maybe-

"Hey! There he is! It's Danny Phantom!" Danny tensed up at the sound of his name.

"And he just signed a girl's journal!"

"_HEY!_ I want his autograph!"

Danny sighed. _Great. Just great._

He tried running off again, but the crowd was too close. They started surrounding him. Then they were closing in on him. And then they started yelling out requests.

"Phantom, could you sign my newspaper?" Some face-less voice shouted frantically

Danny's eyes widened, "Yeah, just one moment, I-"

Another voice was easily picked up above the roar of people. "Could you sign my shirt?"

"Um," Danny started, "Sure? But guys, I just have to-"

"Hey, Phantom? Could you sign my…"

The list went on and on. Danny tried to start signing his autograph, but the group shifted around too much, and then some people started trying to hug him, and they were getting way too excited that he still had that girl's pen in his hand, and he was getting way too claustrophobic, and it was getting way too loud, and–

"**_QUIET!_**" Danny yelled. The entire group was immedeately put to silence, all eyes on him.

"Single file, _please!_"

After a few murmurs, the group complied. The line up was quite messy, with a lot of whining and pushing to get in front, but it was a line nonetheless.

The first person up was some guy that Danny had never seen before. The man handed him a fresh, just off the printer newspaper that had some article about Danny on the front page.

"Here, can you sign this? It's for my girlfriend, Lizzy!" The guy mentioned.

"Yup," Danny took the pen that he was still holding, and quickly scrawled a message and his hero name.

"Can you sign this?" The next person asked, "It's my good-luck baseball jersey!"

_Sigh._ "Sure." _Scribble._

"Hey, Could you sign this? I'm your biggest phan!" The next person, a girl, exclaimed, handing him one of his most famous photograph. Danny nodded and reached his hand out to take the picture from her, when-

"No, _I'm_ his biggest phan!" A Latino-sounding girl's voice shouted, pushing the other girl out of the way before Danny had any time to sign the picture.

_Uh-oh._

"Hey, Phantom," That last voice squealed, "My name is Paulina, except that you probably knew that already, I mean, we're still dating, right? Oh, and here's my diary, it's all about you and all of those times we've had together! So if you could sign it…?"

Danny just wanted to do a face-palm right there, but he chose against it. Who knew how Paulina would react? Instead, he considered how he could respond, and finally settled with, "Um, answer to your first question: No comment. Answer to your second question: Sure." He took the pen and scribbled out: _To my biggest phan, Paulina. From, Danny Phantom,_in her diary.

_Where did that diary even come from? Does she carry it around_**_everywhere_**_?_He wondered silently before handing it back to Paulina. "There you go."

Paulina took one look at the signature and started squeaking really high-pitched, a smile spread from ear to ear. "I love you, Danny!" She yelled as she was pushed aside by the next person. Her comment just caused more uproars of "I love you, too!" from random disembodied voices coming from throughout the mob.

"Um, yeah... See you around..."

The rest of the crown surged forward, everyone wanting him to sign something of theirs, all at the exact same time. They all scrambled around, trying to keep the line moving, but everyone wanted to spend as much of their precious time with Danny as they could get away with. All of the praise and adoration... It was kind of creepy.

In order to get everyone through in the fastest amount of time possible, Danny started signing only his autograph. Nothing else, no more little personal messages, just his Alter-Ego's name. He, at first, hoped that the little scribble of a name was enough to satisfy his phans, and to keep them at bay for a few days. But as the signing frenzy continued for another thirty minutes, and as Danny started to develop a seriously painful writer's cramp, the less he started to care if they were all really that happy.

But the people just kept coming.

**~oOo~**

**A/N: So, how was it? Was it good, or did you have to tip your computer out of the window because of how atrocious my story was? I would like to know how it is so far, so...****_*wink wink nudge nudge*_**

**And I promise, this story will NOT go how you expect it to. It's not too exciting...****_yet. _****You all are just going to have to wait, my lovely chickadees! And if you do already know what's going to happen... then you're psychic or something. It's a very new idea as far as I know.**

**And I don't own Danny Phantom. Just letting that off of my chest. :D**

**And thanks so much to my Beta Reader, sapphireswimming!**


	2. Autograph

**A/N: So, here I am, back with part two!**

**Summary:****_This_********is where the fun starts. 'Nuff said.**

**~oOo~**

**_The next day at school…_**

Mr. Lancer stared, fuming at the students who were crowding around Miss Sanchez's desk. They were being rowdy, not at all like the model students that he dreamed of having. Model students don't become pains in the behind. Model students don't scream at the top of their lungs to some person sitting on the opposite side of the room. And model students _especially_ don't cause class to start late!

Mr. Lancer couldn't even think about starting class until he got them quieted down, because they were being way too loud, and way too disruptive. _Chat, chat, chat,_ that was all they ever did, and they _never stopped._ Any intelligent thoughts of school or work or anything productive were pushed to the back of their little minds for them to come back to sometime later, whenever it was convenient for them. And it was about to drive Mr. Lancer crazy.

But one even more grating voice rose above the rest.

"… And I was all like, 'I love you! I'm your biggest phan!' And then he was like, 'I love you, too! We deserve each other!' and then… He kissed me! And… And then he signed my diary!" Some doubting grumbles from Paulina's peers followed that comment, but a few people were staring wide-eyed at the book that was lying open on her desk.

Mr. Lancer rolled his eyes in disgust. Going just by the way Paulina was acting and by the unusual stutter in her voice, he could tell that it was all some lie that she had fabricated right on the spot. But, judging by the plethora of students hunched over a book on her desk, she did appear to have some sort of an autograph present.

Mr. Lancer stole a glance at the clock on the back wall of the classroom.

_8:07._

They were already starting class late.

"People!" He tried yelling over the chatter of excited students, "Please go to your seats!" No one listened to him. He tried again, this time standing up out of his chair to give the appearance of being in more control. "Class is about to start! To your seats, _now!_"

They all ignored him. Everyone was too busy looking at that stupid - probably fake - signature. The only kids who were staying at their desk despite the events were Miss Mason, Mr. Foley, and Miss Grey, who were all sitting with their arms crossed and with bored looks on their faces. Mr. Fenton, one of their dear friends, was nowhere to be seen. Naturally.

"_The Jungle_, people! It's time for class to start!" Nothing, not one little comment seemed to get through their thick skulls. Mr. Lancer, despite the doubtful chances, tried one more time to get their attention. "I hope you all have studied for that quiz!" Once again, everyone in the class ignored him.

Mr. Lancer huffed. This was completely unacceptable behavior. He was the teacher, for heaven's sake! They should be paying attention to_him_, or at least to their schoolwork, and not idolizing over some annoying ghost's signature. He didn't quite get why everyone was so obsessive over this ghost, anyway.

Well, sure, he was one of the only benevolent ghosts out there that they knew of, and he had saved the town multiple times, but Mr. Lancer still didn't understand it! It just wasn't right! Phantom wasn't technically even human! So why were they idolizing him, slaving over his signature? Besides, it was unhealthy for kids to obsess over things. That fact was proven multiple times at the Ember concert just a few months ago. Oh, how the children had fawned over her…

Mr. Lancer cringed and shook his head, trying to rid it of that disturbing memory. But with that specific image in mind, he finally marched over to the huddle, approaching the direct source of the disruption.

"Miss Sanchez?" He asked expectantly, but Paulina continued to ramble off the next part of her story.

"…And then he lifted me off of my feet! Like, he _actually_ did, 'cause he can fly. And we flew off into the sunset, and-"

"_Miss Sanchez_," He stated more firmly.

"…And he took me to his ghost lair, and then…" She paused mid-sentence and looked up at her teacher, "Yes, Mr. Lancer?" Her smile was sweet, but her voice was dripping with venom that clearly showed how annoyed she was for him having interrupted her very interesting story.

Mr. Lancer held out his hand in the internationally know gesture of 'give it to me'.

"The book. Let me see it."

"What?"

"Can I see your journal, please?" He asked in a more direct yet impatient manner.

"Oh, right, yes!" Paulina lit up immediately, and she lifted her diary up to his face so Mr. Lancer could get a clear view. "It has Danny Phantom's autograph in it, see?" She pointed at an amateur-looking scribble of a signature. Even when he squinted, Mr. Lancer could just barely make out the famous specter's name before it was whisked away, back into Paulet's hugging grip. "Do you want to know how I got it?" She was practically jumping up and down in her seat from the excitement.

"No, I do not." Mr. Lancer answered smartly, snatching the diary out of her arms and completely ignoring her new whining protests.

"_Hey_, Lancer, that's mine!" She yelled, standing up quickly in shock.

"Not anymore, Miss Sanchez. I've been waiting patiently for class to start, and that diary of yours is just too distracting to the other students!"

He held the diary up as he spoke, giving his comment something to refer to. This action let Paulina get a good, long, tempting look at it. After staring at it in silence for only a few seconds, she tried to grab it from him. Mr. Lancer pulled the booklet back just in time.

"This'll just have to stay will me until sometime later, when everything has calmed down," He stated matter-of-factly.

"But Mr. Lancer-!"

"Don't 'But Mr. Lancer-!' me, Miss Sanchez!" He hissed, "Whining will only make me keep your journal for an even longer amount of time. Right now, it is mine until school is out for the day."

Paulina was practically in tears. But they were fake tears that were probably just an act to get Mr. Lancer to feel sympathy for her. He had been a teacher long enough to know all of those girl's little tricks. He had played along with them too many times before, but enough was enough.

"But, Mr. Lancer, _please?_"

"That's another twelve hours added," He smirked, "If I were you, I would stop."

"Pretty,_pretty plea-?_"

The door of the room burst open loudly, cutting off Paulina's plea, and in sprinted an exhausted-looking Danny. A few kids looked up at him, Sam and Tucker especially. He then proceeded to make his presence even more apparent by banging the door loudly behind him. Danny stood panting with sweat pouring down his tired face, his hands resting on his knees. He looked like he had just gotten run over at a drag race.

"Sorry," _pant,_ "Mr. Lancer," _pant,_ "that I'm late…" _pant,_ "**_Again_.**"

The entire room went quiet. Even the chatty kids who were discussing Paulina's bad luck with Mr. Lancer stopped to look at the rag-tag state that Danny was in.

Oblivious to the attention that he was drawing, Danny wiped the sweat off of his forehead with his shirt collar and leaned against the door, spending more time catching his breath. And before Mr. Lancer could say anything about the tardy, the teacher was put to silence by the mere appearance of his most disappointing student.

Danny's shirt was ripped and tattered in many places, with dirt and grime making it nauseatingly filthy. His pants were covered with mud from mid-calf down. Danny's hair was covered by an unknown substance that suspiciously looked like glow-in-the-dark boogies. He held his worn, dirt-caked, use-to-be purple backpack by one of the straps and let it dangle to the floor.

The boy himself looked completely terrible. Mr. Lancer, by this time in the year, was use to the daily sight of Danny looking exhausted at best, but this was somehow different. The bags under his eyes were obviously darker, and his eyes weren't focusing on things like they should. It seemed like he had gotten only a few hours of sleep in the past week, maybe even less, which was definitely doing nothing positive to his already disintegrating health. Danny looked like he was about to sink to the floor and fall asleep right there in the middle of class. His eyes were closing, and his breathing was slowing down…

"Mr. Fenton!" The teacher finally barked out, pulling Danny back to reality, "To your seat! Everyone else, sit down as well. Class is about to start!"

As the boy made his way by Mr. Lancer on the way to his desk, the teacher grabbed Danny by an arm and pulled him aside.

"Mr. Fenton... Are you alright?" He asked, for once sounding truly sincerely.

Danny nodded, seeming not fully awake. "Hmm, yeah. I'm fine. Just, you know, really tired..."He was slowly inching his way towards his desk, desperate to get away from the teacher's prying eyes. Mr. Lancer grabbed his arm again and looked him straight on.

"I think I need to send you to the nurse, Mr. Fenton. Just this once, though."

"Naw, no need. I'm fine," He nodded again, but this nod seemed more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Mr. Lancer, "Really. I'm just... tired. And I tripped down the stairs in front of the school, and... Yeah. It probably looks worse than it actually is."

With that last comment, Danny continued walking to his desk. Mr. Lancer didn't try to stop him. He decided, for once, to excuse the tardy. _Besides, it's not like he interrupted a lesson. If anyone should be getting a detention, it's Miss Sanchez. But, then again, she_**_is_**_a popular…_

**~oOo~**

**_Danny's PoV…_**

"So, how much did I miss?" Danny whispered hoarsely as he slid into his desk.

"Nothing much," Sam replied just as quietly, keeping watch on the lecturing Mr. Lancer, "Only the Witch bragging about how 'Phantom signed her diary!' Seriously, Danny, why did you do that?" She had asked simply, but there was a threatening tone somewhere in her voice.

"They mobbed me yesterday," A yawn escaped his mouth, "I didn't just sign_her_ diary. Almost every single freakin' person in Amity Park bombarded me, wanting me to sign something or another! I must've signed about three hundred different things. Some things I even signed twice because their owners got back in line. My hand _still_hurts from writing my 'name' down so much." He cradled his aching wrist, which just emphasized his point. "It stank."

"I bet," Tucker sighed, not really wanting to imagine what his friend must've gone through. He quickly changed the subject. "So, what made you late?"

"Was it Skulker and one of his lame attempt to make you some sort of mount on his wall?" Guessed the Goth.

"Nope, surprisingly," Danny laid his head on his desk and started closing his eyes, "I caught him earlier last night, as well as the Box Ghost, so don't ask about either of them. It was actually Cujo." Danny ran his hand stressfully through his disheveled hair and winced once his fingers touched the gooey substance. He lowered his hand eye-level to examined the dog slobber and sighed. "... And now I need to wash up between classes, too. Great."

"Cujo? He's the one who tore you up?" Sam asked, having been told the unexpected. "I thought he liked you!"

"But he wanted a treat, and I didn't have a treat, and that made him_really_ mad, so…" He yawned again, "There's that."

"Dude, you look awful," Tucker pointed out. Danny responded by re-positioning his head in between his crossed arms on his desk to block out all light. "You really need to get some sleep. I mean, you're usually tired, but this is _way_ beyond tired. You look utterly horrible!"

"Uh… That's nice," Danny hummed. After a few second, a loud snore came from the general direction of his exhaling body.

**~oOo~**

**_About a minute later…_**

"Mr. Fenton?"

"Hmmm…?"

"_Mr. Fenton!_"

Danny's head jerked up suddenly at the sound of his name.

"Huh where's the ghost?" He slurred almost incoherently, as he was still half asleep. The class laughed at him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Thinking about falling asleep in my class again, Mr. Fenton?" The teacher asked slyly. He didn't respond, save for the un-focusing and re-focusing of his eyes. Danny blinked groggily a few times when Mr. Lancer waved a piece of paper in front of his face.

"What's that?" He asked as he disorientedly grabbed the paper out of Mr. Lancer's hand.

"This is your quiz, Mr. Fenton. The one that you are about to take, in case you forgot about it. You know, the one over _The Lord of the Flies_?"

At these words, Danny seemed to become at least partially alert.

"Oh, um, right. _That_ test over… _that_ book..." He trailed off, eyes focusing again.

_Crud! I haven't even started to read it yet!_He slowly looked over the test in his hand, not even attempting to understand what the questions were about. He tried as best as he could to keep panic off of his face, for Mr. Lancer's sake.

"And I would suggest that you get started on it sometime in the next decade, Mr. Fenton. There are only twenty-five minutes left in class."

"Right."

And with just that answer, Mr. Lancer strolled away. Danny sighed in relief and turned his attention towards the impending quiz.

Danny wanted so badly to take a nap. He had to practically hold his eyelids open just to stay awake. He wiped away some slobber - his own, this time - from his desk before blearily setting down the paper. Danny wrote his name and the date at the top, and then read the first question.

**_1.)_**_ What does the character Ralph symbolize that is in our society?_

_No idea._ Danny thought over what he knew about the book, which wasn't much, so he eventually just had to make something up. He jotted his answer down on the lines provided.

**_2.) _**_What does 'the Beastie' symbolize?_

Danny rubbed his eyes, left that question blank, and moved on to the next one.

This was how he went through the entire quiz. Danny didn't know the answer to any of the questions, and more than half of them were left unanswered. The rest of them were guesses that were more than likely wrong. He fell asleep a few more times, but was always elbowed awake by Sam just in the nick of time. But, eventually the bell rang, and an unsatisfied, still-exhausted Danny was left to turn in a failing test.

**~oOo~**

**_Later that day…_**

Once again, Mr. Lancer was stuck at school grading papers until the late hours of the day. Already, it was a quarter past seven. It was getting dark outside, and he wanted nothing more than to pack up and go home for the night. But after spending all afternoon grading that stupid quiz, the work was finally starting to pay off. Mr. Lancer only had about four more quizzes left to grade, and would be at home enjoying a nice cup of tea before the hour was over.

Mr. Lancer picked up the next quiz from the ungraded stack, and he could tell immediately whose quiz it was. Yes, judging by the sloppy handwriting, the half-answered questions, and the lack of writing in general on the sheet, this quiz was most definitely the work of Mr. Fenton.

The balding teacher sighed. Most of the time, Danny just seemed like the typical slacker student, but sometimes he got the strangest feeling that Danny actually _was_trying. And he always looked so disappointed in himself when Mr. Lancer handed back a terrible grade. But with the grades he was getting, the teacher couldn't imagine that was the case. Here, Danny had turned in an incomplete test that couldn't possibly earn him more than a 50%. Mr. Lancer didn't quite understand it.

But just as a step of extra precaution, or, more accurately, the response to habit, Mr. Lancer glanced at the top of the page just to see if it truly was Mr. Fenton's test in his hand. That's when he stopped dead in his tracks, and actually had to do a double-check and a triple-take to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. But he _wasn't_ hallucinating, which was just absurd!

Mr. Lancer stared at the sheet in silence, trying to see past the trick. Because it had to be a trick! It couldn't be real! For the quiz, surprisingly enough, wasn't Mr. Fenton's.

It was Mr. Phantom's.

**~oOo~**

**A/N:****That wasn't what you expected, was it? You just****_couldn't_********have guessed that outcome… Right?****_*Gasp*_****Or are you all psychic?_*Gives readers suspicious glare*_** **I honestly don't know how I uncovered this plot bunny. It must've been knocking around up here for ages!****_*Bangs side of head a few times.*_**

**And thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed my story! I LOVE YOU AND I SHOWER YOU WITH COOKIES! Your choice of flavor! YAY!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own. **

**And thanks to my Beta Reader, sapphireswimming!**


	3. Diary

**A/N: So… Um, yeah, it's been a while. Sorry…**

**Summary: Mr. Lancer noticed something that clearly couldn't be right. So now, with evidence in hand, how will he approach this oddity?**

**~oOo~**

Mr. Lancer pulled at his goatee as he looked over the scrawled name once more, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

To clear his mind, Mr. Lancer took a moment to look away from the quiz, and instead, focused on the opposite wall. After a few moments of staring blankly at the off-white bricks, he looked back at the signature; maybe he was imagining it, after all! But when he turned his attention back to the test, to that squiggle, it still looked exactly the same. Right in front of him, in rushed pencil markings, was a name that most definitely shouldn't have been there.

_Danny Phantom._

No matter how many times Mr. Lancer tried to 'snap out of it', the name was still there. Of course, he could've been going senile, but the balding teacher dearly hoped that was not the case.

He lay the paper down on his desk in a daze, trying to de-muddle his brain so he could think over the situation without being in a complete gallimaufry. He decided that, in order to come to a justified answer or reason, he would have to think through every single possibility.

He felt normal. All throughout the day, he had acted like he usually did. This was the first out-of-place thing that had jumped out at him in a while. With all of those little facts added together, Mr. Lancer felt like he could safely conclude that he wasn't going crazy. Which meant that the signature was really there.

So, Mr. Fenton had substituted his real last name with the last name of Amity Park's most famous hero. They did, after all, have the same first name. Plus… Fenton. Phantom. Their last names sounded similar enough. Danny also seemed completely 'out of it' the whole entire day. It could've been just a silly mistake caused by low energy and fatigue.

Mr. Lancer thought over his reasoning. Yes, the likelihood of Mr. Fenton writing down Phantom's name in his tired haze was a possibility. But it still didn't _completely_ justify why Danny would write down the wrong name. All his life, he had written down his true name on hundreds, no,_thousands_ of papers for school and other functions. His mind had been practically programmed to write down the name 'Fenton' after the name 'Danny'. He wouldn't just happen to write down this ghost's name by accident in his exhaustion.

The possibility of it all being just a prank didn't escape Mr. Lancer, either. To him, this was one of the more realistic reasons that he could think of, but that didn't mean it was perfect; there were still many flaws with that idea. For example, in the state that Mr. Fenton was in, would he have the humor or the wit to formulate a joke? Mr. Lancer doubted it. And his overtired-ness seemed too real to be an act.

Mr. Lancer racked his brain, trying to come up with every possibility. He dissected the ones that came to mind. Most of them, however, were either stupidly ridiculous, or they were so far-fetched that Mr. Lancer was constantly loosing track of what he was thinking about.

Yes, the chances of it being just an immature joke seemed all the more likely the more he thought about it.

_After all,_ He thought, _it's not like Phantom flew in here and signed the test himself…_

A gear seemed to click in Mr. Lancer's head. He froze.

_No…_

That was_extremely_ unlikely. After all, what would be Mr. Phantom's motive behind it? There was absolutely no way.

_But what if, somehow, that_**_is_**_Mr. Phantom's signature?_

_... But it can't be._

No matter how hard he tried to push it to the back of his mind, this idea refused to leave Mr. Lancer alone. As he pondered over the possibilities - or lack thereof - of this thought, he slowly began to realized that he had a way to prove or disprove the notion once and for all.

After locating his pair of reading glasses in the jumbled clutter, Mr. Lancer pulled open a desk drawer and took out a book. A very pink, very girly 'Top Secret' book that he had just happened to confiscate earlier that day.

It was Miss Sanchez's diary. The one that was totally dedicated to none other than Mr. Phantom.

The teacher could smell the perfume wafting towards him as he lifted the front cover. It was very nauseating perfume that smelled like a mixture of cupcakes and artificial pears. Regardless of the awful headache that this odor was inflicting upon him, Mr. Lancer had to turn each page slowly, not wanting to skip over what he was looking for.

On one sheet that Mr. Lancer had the misfortune to see, Mr. Phantom's emblem covered almost the entire page, colored in with pink Sharpie that bled onto the next few pages. In every available space, Miss Sanchez had then proceeded to write phrases such as 'DP + PS forever!' and 'Mr. and Mrs. Phantom' in her flowing handwriting. It was disgusting, the amount of adoration that Miss Sanchez had for this boy, a _specter_, nonetheless!

Mr. Lancer shuddered and turned the page once more.

On this spread, a newspaper photograph of Mr. Phantom was glued into the book. Surrounding the picture were florescent pink lip-gloss kiss markings. Something was written at the bottom of the page. Mr. Lancer thought that it could be the autograph, but as he adjusted his glasses, he realized that whatever was written there was written in Spanish.

He groaned inwardly and murmured something about '_Tales of Misery!'_ before quickly flipping the page.

As Mr. Lancer squinted at this page, the first thing that jumped out at him was the uncharacteristic lack of pink love notes and hearts drawn everywhere. Sure, there were loads of those things on the mirroring page, but this page didn't have anything else on it. Before Mr. Lancer had time to wonder about this, he saw that little squiggle that he had glimpsed earlier that day.

_There._

That was the signed page. There had been nothing doodled within a two-inch radius of the autograph because it was being treated like a holy alter without anything tainting it.

Mr. Lancer examined the chicken scratch on the page closely, studying the curvature, pressure, and those odd distinguishable kinks that were only present in Mr. Phantoms' handwriting. It did somehow look familiar.

He then looked at the place where Mr. Fenton's name should have been on the test. He then looked back at the name in the diary. Then back to the name on the test. Every time his gaze changed, his lips pursed even tighter together.

The first names, the 'Danny's, were practically identical. The 'a's had the same little hook on the end. The two 'n's on each name ran together to look like an extra-long 'm'. The 'y's tails both stopped abruptly where most people make a loop leading out of the letter. Even the slant was at the same angle! As for the last name, they were exactly the same, too.

Neither of the names seemed too hesitated. Neither of them looked like a possible forgery. Which meant that they were more than likely written by the same person.

But this realization caused a new, dreadful predicament to come to mind.

Who wrote both of the names… Phantom, or Fenton?

**~oOo~**

**A/N: Okay, so... I'm so sorry. I know that it's been a few days… Okay, fine, a few weeks... Okay, fine, five months. But I have perfectly good reasons! ****So, now it's sad story time! **

**Once upon a time, Sarahhaley was almost done with the next chapter of her story. It had taken a long time to write anyways, but then, her computer died. It was a tragic, painful death that made her very sad. She didn't know what to do. She also lost a whole lot of inspiration and motivation because this was the computer that happened to have the only saved copy of that chapter. So she had to re-type the entire chapter, and it somehow ended up much shorter than the original copy. Oh well. THE END.**

**And now my mediocre children's storytelling is over****... So, now that I've updated, I only ask for one thing in return…** **Ohhh, what is this at the bottom of the page? A blue review button! Why don't you click it? You know you want to.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. **

**And, of course, last but certainly not least, thanks to my Beta Reader, sapphireswimming!**


	4. Sherlock

**A/N: Meow. I'm bored. Onto the story!**

**Summary: Does Mr. Lancer have enough information and clues to actually put two and two together?**

**~oOo~**

**_The Next Day…_**

It should've been just another mundane school day for Mr. Lancer. After having gone through a couple thousand of these in his lifetime, one would think that Mr. Lancer would consider it just another fish in the sea. But that day was different, much different than any of the other days.

For one thing, he hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep the night before. Mr. Lancer had actually shown up at school almost an hour earlier than usual because he had nothing better to do with his time spent not sleeping. He was finally starting to understand why his students were always so prone to taking naps in their classes.

Secondly, Mr. Lancer's head was still swimming with thoughts on those autographs; he was completely stumped by all of it. What his eyes told him was true was what his brain wouldn't come to terms with. His over-active imagination was getting to him, but he could no longer sort through all of his improbable ideas. All of that thinking the day before had bled into the night, and his brain hadn't let him go to sleep.

As he rubbing his temples, Mr. Lancer checked the clock once again. Students weren't going to start flooding into the building for another ten minutes or so.

He sighed. A yawn that he had been forcing down could no longer be contained. His eyes watered and stung. That desk of his looked so tempting… so inviting. One little nap couldn't hurt, could it?

Mr. Lancer's eyes drooped, and his head slumped until it was lying on the worktop.

Just fifteen minutes. That's all he wanted.

...

His phone rang.

Groaning, Mr. Lancer lifted his head, looking at the noisy contraption.

_Be quiet,_he mentally pleaded. But it wouldn't shut up. The annoyed teacher almost considered chucking the phone across the room, but even in his exhausted daze, Mr. Lancer could see a few problems or consequences if he carried out that notion.

He took the time to peer at the caller ID.

**Catherine Shaw, Office.**

Well, Miss Catherine Shaw could wait.

Mr. Lancer tried his best to ignore the persistent ringing. Although it seemed to take forever, after around the sixth ring, it stopped. The balding teacher breathed a sigh of relief while setting his head back on the desk.

He had just closed his eyes when, once again, the phone started to ring.

Mr. Lancer's eyes flew open, and he banged his head on the desk a few times in frustration. The racket wouldn't stop, and it was driving him nuts! What could Miss Catherine Shaw want with him, anyways? In obvious reluctance, Mr. Lancer grabbed the phone and raised it harshly to his face.

_"Mr. Lancer-?"_

"-Unless someone's died, I'm not interested!" He snapped, slamming the phone back down onto its receiver without waiting for a response from the Office Lady.

His blood-shot eyes looked quickly at the clock on the wall.

_9 minutes until class starts. Oh well._

Mr. Lancer laid his head on his desk once more.

This was going to be a very long day.

**~oOo~**

**_Forty Minutes Later…_**

"Students, please take out in that homework packet that I assigned on Friday last week," Mr. Lancer mumbled in his natural monotone voice. The only thing odd about it was that his voice was layered with a fatigue that wasn't usually present.

Somehow, the class heard his request, and they pulled out their homework from their backpacks. He walked up and down the aisles, picking up the stack of papers that the students handed to him. A few kids grumbled as they handed their not-quite-finished packet to Mr. Lancer, who looked at them disapprovingly before strolling on to the next desk.

Paulina looked at him with false apology in her pleading eyes. _I'm so sorry about the diary,_ she seemed to be thinking, _Can I have it back now? Pretty, pretty please?_

Mr. Lancer shook his head stubbornly as he grabbed her papers. Her demeanor changed immediately, and Paulina glanced at him with hateful daggers before turning to gossip with her friends. Mr. Lancer smirked and moved on.

Upon reaching the end of the line, only Danny and his small posse were left with homework in hand. Mr. Lancer kept his frail composure in tact as much as he could as he picked up Miss Mason's, Mr. Foley's, and finally, Mr. Fenton's papers and placed them on the top of the stack.

The lesson for that day went on as planned, except a few times whereas Mr. Lancer got completely distracted by one thing or another… and, of course, when he almost fell asleep that one time. Mr. Lancer usually didn't get that unfocused…

_That's what happens when you don't get even two hours of shut-eye,_ He reminded himself.

_But, goodness, my own voice is making me fall asleep! No wonder some of my students are always tired. If they stay up all night every night..._

Just thinking about it made him shudder.

Finally, Mr. Lancer had a small break. His students were filling out a worksheet, so he had a little time near the end of class to relax in his chair and think about how he was going to survive the rest of the fuel-consuming day.

His planning period was his next class period. There, the exhausted teacher could grade papers and such, but it wouldn't matter if he 'accidentally' took a nap. If he could just pull through until then, then he could get a cup of coffee at least, just to wake him up a little. But until his planning period started, he was left teaching and trying as hard as he could to stay awake.

Mr. Lancer kept his eyes on the clock all throughout the class, willing for time to speed up. Just seven more minutes, then he would be free to do whatever his tired mind pleased.

The minute hand on the clock moved a millimeter. Six more minutes!

In his peripheral vision, Mr. Lancer noticed that a student had raised their hand. He looked up to find that it was none other than Mr. Fenton, who probably wanted to be excused, like always. The teacher took a moment to get his voice working before he responded. In that small amount of time, Danny's firm hand had resolved to waving around frantically, trying to get his attention.

"Mr. Fenton?" He was finally able to speak up.

Danny lowered his frenzied hand. "May I be excused?"

Mr. Lancer sighed. "Yes."

Danny jumped up out of his seat and grabbed his backpack before heading towards the door. His two friends passed worried glances to each other as he left. It looked as though they were going to ask to be excused as well, but Sam took one look at the clock and shook her head at Tucker. Mr. Lancer nodded to himself in understanding: With just three more minutes of class, they were probably going to wait to leave during break. Where they were going, Mr. Lancer didn't know.

That group was so enigmatic, it was nerve-wracking. Where did Danny always go during class? Why would his friends want to help him? And_why_ was his paper - possibly - signed by a ghost?

While Mr. Lancer stewed in these thoughts, the bell rang. Finally, class was dismissed.

Mr. Lancer watched all of the students leave, and when there wasn't a single person left in the room besides himself. Mr. Lancer shut his door and sat down in his comfy spiny-chair.

Finally! He could actually take some down time now!

After spinning around in the chair once, just for the heck of it, Mr. Lancer took a moment to stare at his desk in relaxing blankness in order to get his mind clear… only to realize that the ungraded homework that he had taken up earlier was staring right back at him.

_Urg._

He definitely didn't want to grade that day. He was too tired as it was, and looking at black on white for too long would give him a terrible migraine. Adding that on top of his pre-existing fatigue could become the death of him.

But the teacher decided that getting at least a few papers done before his nap would be better than procrastinating and therefore having bigger work-load to grade later. Besides, it would give him a much needed break from his current obsession… Phantom, or Fenton? That topic had been driving him completely bonkers for the past few hours. Yes, grading was sure to take his mind off of it for the time being.

Tucking the ordeal to the back of his mind, Mr. Lancer picked up the top paper and glanced at the name.

It just had to be Mr. Fenton's paper, didn't it? Naturally.

_Well,_he thought as he skimmed through the homework, at least _the name is correct this time…_

The teacher couldn't help but shake his head, trying his best to push yesterday's events out of his head. He began to slowly check the answers, just to divert his thoughts.

He had only gotten about half-way through when an idea slowly crept its way into his mind. Mr. Lancer knew exactly how he could prove who signed the diary and test.

He had Mr. Fenton's homework in his hand, name correct and all. So Danny must have written that name. He still had Paulina's diary, too. So, if the two 'Danny's looked different, then Phantom must have, for some very strange reason, flown into his classroom the day before, just to sign the paper for Fenton. But if the two names looked the same, then… Mr. Lancer would have to figure that out if it came to it.

As he was pulling the diary out of its designated drawer, however, a banging sound distracted him. It was coming from outside. Mr. Lancer set down the stack of papers and peered out his classroom window in confusion.

It was Phantom, who was fighting a large, metal-looking ghost.

Of course, Phantom, of all people, had to show up. The fates weren't only trying to humor Mr. Lancer; they were set on driving him crazy, too.

Being use to these ghost fights, however, he was able to ignore the blasts and the shouting as best as he could. Mr. Lancer turned his attention back to his experiment. He flipped through the journal, trying to remember what page the signature was on. But before the teacher could do anything productive, the ghost boy hit the window with a loud _bang._

Annoyed and just a little startled, Mr. Lancer looked up from his work, just to see Phantom standing up from where he had been crumpled on the ground from one of the other ghost's well-aimed fires. Phantom started shouting something to the other ghost, just stalling while he got his energy together.

Mr. Lancer groaned in exasperation, his eyes turning into slits. Distractions were not going to butt into his precious break time. He quickly looked back down at the newly-located signature in the diary, trying to block out the ghostly conversation that was seeping through his closed classroom window.

"Jeez, Skulker!"

Mr. Lancer couldn't help but watch the ghost boy from his peripherals. Phantom was rubbing his forehead as he stood up; this was the only sign that his slam into the window had actually hurt.

The young ghost continued, "Not only were you stupid enough to get an angry, irritated me out of bed earlier this morning, but now you've decided to give it yet another go!" Phantom launched himself into the air, his voice becoming more distant the higher up he floated. "How did you get out of that thermos, anyways?"

The other ghost, Sulker's, voice was very stifled. Mr. Lancer could barely make out the words 'new tech' and 'decorative rug' before the cringing Phantom flew off, taking the fighting and the banter somewhere further away from the school.

Mr. Lancer sighed. Once this distraction disappeared, he was finally able to get cracking on his puzzling investigation. His eyes wandered from the window, to the name in the diary, to the name in the homework.

He studied them and looked them over. And after experiencing a few moments of serious déjà vu, the teacher, once again, happened to find something that was absolutely unexplainable. Just as he had dreaded, the two 'Danny's were exactly the same. And his findings were completely indisputable this time.

This made him consider what this actually meant. But his thoughts were in a jumbled mess. Nothing probable came to him. Mr. Lancer was in doubt about everything. He knew how implausible it all was.

_But,_he reminded himself, _implausible doesn't make it impossible._

"It's like what Sherlock said," Mr. Lancer couldn't help but whisper out loud in an attempt to motivate himself, "'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, _however improbable_, must be the truth.' All I have to do is pull the fact together, and a possible scenario will surely present itself!"

With the great words of Sherlock Holmes pulsing throughout his mind, Mr. Lancer was able to look at his problem under a new, almost perfect light.

He began with what he knew: The name 'Danny' in Phantom and Fenton's signature was too similar to ignore.

Next, Mr. Lancer considered everything he knew about the two boys. For starters, they were both around the same age by the looks of it. They had very similar names, and possibly very similar signatures. But, other than that, they were complete opposites!

While Fenton was lazy and forgetful, Phantom tried his best to protect Amity Park and its citizens. While Fenton was the underdog who tried his best to hide in the shadows, Phantom was heroic and loved by almost everyone. While Fenton skipped school all the time, Phantom was always there to save the day.

_While Fenton skipped school all the time, Phantom was always there to save the day._

This pattern, this obscure and almost frightening coincidence, appeared in Mr. Lancer's overworking mind as clear as day.

Whenever Fenton skipped school, without fail, Phantom always appeared, fighting a ghost somewhere.

Mr. Lancer was never one to ignore a coincidence.

So, as he flipped through the pages of the diary in a hysterical frenzy, and as his eyes landed on a blurry, black and white headshot of the benevolent ghost, Mr. Lancer had very good reason to be shocked as an epiphany breached his closed-mindedness.

"Holy… _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_!"

**~oOo~**

**A/N: Ohhhhhhhhh, it's getting good now! What a… Plot Twist. Yes, that was a nice plot twist. Nah, you were all probably expecting it… Oh well. **

**So, the usual... Review, if you're up to it… But this time, I have a challenge for you all! One of my good friends, lightning4022, did this in her fan-fiction, and I wanted to do the same.**

**So the challenge is: How old do you think I am? Just tag your answer to the end of your review. I'm interested to what you all think! And if you know how old I am, don't spoil it for the others. That's it!**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill.**

**And "Thanks!" to my awesome Beta, sapphireswimming!**

**Until next time, peeps!**


	5. Conclusion

**A/N: It's the finale. Must I say more?**

**~oOo~**

It couldn't be. It was impossible. There was absolutely no way that he could be anywhere close to the truth. _It just couldn't be!_ It wasn't even fathomable!

Phantom was a ghost. Danny was a human. And people who were very much alive couldn't be ghosts who were very clearly dead! As far as Mr. Lancer knew, that alone was scientifically, accurately, even physically impossible, and he hadn't even started thinking about the little mechanics behind it, such as how and why.

It just. Wasn't. Possible.

So why did he find himself doubtful?

Because the evidence was right in front of him. That was why. The names, the picture, the other things in Paulina's diary, were all the proof he really needed. That, on top of Danny's absence, Phantom suddenly appearing to erase the ghost threat…

Even if it really _couldn't_ be possible, it sure did explain a heck of a lot about Danny.

But Phantom, with his 'hip coolness', was outside, fighting a ghost just like he did practically every day. He somehow managed to face such terrifying enemies without showing a single concern. His strong confidence allowed him to throw witty comments into the - probably dangerous and _very_ aggravated - ghost's face, but he was never worried about the consequence of his arrogance. Phantom's awe-striking powers were enough to make anyone intimidated, yet he always seemed to use that power for good, responsible things.

Mr. Fenton, on the other hand, was the farthest thing from cool, and he seemed to be paranoid of everything. He was the shy slacker who found himself hanging from the flag-pole by his underwear twice a month because he was too wimpy to fend for himself. He was the kid who, if handed any sort of power, would probably use it to persuade someone into doing his homework so he could sit and play video games for hours on end. But if someone handed him responsibility to go hand-in-hand with that power, he would either ignore it or try to run away from it.

So, no, it wasn't true. Based on the differing ways that those two acted, they were most definitely _not_the same person. Mr. Lancer had just let his imagination manifest on a silly notion for far too long. In a few days, he would look back and laugh at himself for being so stupid. It was just a mind trick. That was all the explanation he needed...

But that didn't explain why the signatures of Mr. Phantom and Mr. Fenton were almost the exact same. The similarity of the two boys' names didn't remain unnoticed by the teacher, either. And Mr. Lancer's pathetic excuse still hadn't explained why the two boys looked like they could be twins - minus the different hair and eye colors, of course.

One look at that monochrome picture in the diary was enough to send shivers all up and down Mr. Lancer's spine. The newspaper clipping of Danny Phantom, indeed, made him look practically identical to Danny Fenton.

Phantom's snow white hair was spiked forward, just like Mr. Fenton's. The shape of his face was almost identical to that of Mr. Fenton's. The lack of color in the picture made it impossible to tell what color Phantom's eyes really were, and the panicking teacher could very well imagine them being icy-blue, not electric-green. The relation between where Phantom's facial features were... Mr. Lancer may have thought that it was Fenton dressed up as Phantom for Halloween if he hadn't known better.

Still, it could have been just a coincidence. There was absolutely no way...

Sherlock Holmes' voice found its way into Mr. Lancer's head, reminding him, once again, of his idol's words.

_'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains,_**_however improbable_**_, must be the truth.'_

That concept was elementary enough for Mr. Lancer to understand. But that meant that he was still faced with an impossible, yet somehow true, scenario. After all, there was too much evidence supporting his theory to even consider another explanation-

_Then the evidence is wrong!_ Mr. Lancer insisted as he slammed the diary shut. _It has to be! I'm missing a big clue, or there isn't enough proof, or… or something!_

Mr. Lancer cupped his face in his hands and sighed desperately. He was in denial, his mind completely set on ignoring what was clearly right in front of him. But the more he thought over the situation at hand, the more and more difficult it was for Mr. Lancer to throw his whacked-out theory out of the window.

Danny Phantom was somehow Danny Fenton's heroic alter ego.

The thought made him feel sick. Danny... being heroic? It really stretched the imagination - especially Mr. Lancer's overworked one. It was mind blowing. Completely out of Mr. Fenton's character. But that didn't necessarily make it untrue. To put it in a simple form that Mr. Lancer's panicking mind could fully grasp, Fenton was in disguise, flying around and blowing things up instead of attending school like his peers.

Adding school into the equation somehow helped with the understanding problem.

_But... No. I'm wrong._ As he looked at the situation through different eyes, Mr. Lancer began to reconsider and re-word his previous statement. _Mr. Fenton is rescuing complete strangers and constantly putting his life on the line. He's doing all of this instead of spending time with his friends and family like any normal teenager._

That was when the truth really set in. Mr. Lancer's most disappointing student was, in all reality, a teenage superhero. Danny was giving up his own social life to save the lives of others.

The puzzle pieces were finally fitting together. The same mysteries that had made Mr. Lancer wonder in his office chair for hours on end were unraveling themselves, one by one.

It seemed more than plausible that Mr. Fenton's wimpy teenage attitude was just a deep cover that he put on to protect his true identity. That excuse explained why Phantom and Fenton acted so differently - it was a cover-up.

And if Danny, as Phantom, was fighting ghosts whenever they showed up, it would explain why he had to be excused from class practically every day.

And if the ghost fights kept him up at night - which was all too likely, considering that the bewitching hour was midnight - then he couldn't get more than a couple hours of sleep per night. That would certainly give him an excuse for nodding off when he actually showed up at school.

And on those few occasions when Danny was able to make it to class... his peers and teachers were trying their best to make his life a living hell.

And Mr. Lancer knew that he was one of the worst culprits.

It made him feel... hideous. Ashamed. Danny Fenton was doing so much for the community, yet Mr. Lancer knew that he had treated this student like he was worth nothing. Like he wasn't capable of getting anywhere in life, or doing anything even remotely worthwhile. Granted, the teacher hadn't known Danny's true identity at the time, but regardless, his own behavior to Danny, and even some of the other students, was sometimes border-line cruel. And it wasn't right.

The teacher knew that he had to change something, and quickly. Understanding a little more about the situation began shedding a lot of light for Mr. Lancer. He felt as though the more he did understand, the more he could actually help.

He decided, right then and there, that he was going to call Mr. Fenton to his classroom - after school, during lunch, whenever a break would come up – and they were going to have a nice, little talk. Just the two of them, man to man. Mr. Lancer was going to make sure that both ends understood exactly what was going on. He was going to make things right.

**~oOo~**

**_Later that day..._**

"_Danny Fenton, go to room 107 during lunch, please,"_ The intercom blared.

Mr. Lancer shifted uncomfortably in his chair, waiting patiently for the lunch bell to ring. He exhaled in relief when it finally did. No more waiting or wondering.

After only a few minutes, someone slowly opened his classroom door. There was a moment of hesitation before Danny shuffled into the classroom.

"Ah, Mr. Fenton," the teacher said, surprised by how calm his own voice sounded. "So glad you could make it this time. Take a seat, please," he suggested, motioning to one of the desks on the front row.

There was a second of awkward silence until Danny finally spoke up. "Um, Mr. Lancer, am I in trouble?" He asked uncomfortably as he flung his backpack under his desk and sat down.

"No, no. We just need to talk, that's all."

"Um… okay… What about?" The boy asked, his voice shaking from nerves.

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat. "We just need to discuss some things… about school, your absences, your grades… That sort of thing. Nothing too bad," he assured.

Danny sank in his seat and mumbled in humiliation. "Grades?"

Mr. Lancer nodded.

"Skipping?" When Mr. Lancer nodded a second time, Danny seemed to deflate even more.

"Now, we both know that you're efforts at school have been… not acceptable, to say the least," the teacher began, "But that's not all I want to discuss with you."

"Well, then…?" Danny shrugged meekly. "I mean… What else is there to talk about?"

Mr. Lancer ignored the teen's cracking voice and continued, making sure not to sound too unapproachable. "I really want to talk about the cause – the very root – of your bad grades and absences and whatnot."

"Yeah?" Danny gulped and subconsciously rubbed the back of his neck. "What about it?"

"Can you tell me anything about exactly _why_ your schoolwork seems to lack any sort of… effort?"

"No." It came quickly, extremely determined. And for one moment, Mr. Lancer could imagine that it was Phantom's powerful voice echoing around his room, not one belonging to an apparently wimpy teen.

Danny backed down a little, rubbing his neck awkwardly, seeming more than a little embarrassed. "I mean… Well, life happens, you know? School's just been really difficult for me, and it's just… You know, stuff like that. It's nothing, really."

Mr. Lancer put on his 'I'm not convinced' face, which just made Danny all the more uncomfortable.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else?"

"Why would there be? What makes you so sure that there is something else going on?" Danny asked, but he seemed far too frantic in his attempt to get Mr. Lancer to believe him. "I'm… I'm just dealing with what every other kid has to deal with, honest! There is nothing bothering me, other than what I've already told you."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"I'm sure, Mr. Lancer!" He snapped back, causing the teacher to raise an eyebrow. Danny looked down at his desk, shaken by his sudden and probably very suspicious outburst.

Mr. Lancer continued softly and at a slow pace, for he knew what fragile grounds he was treading on. "Because, Danny, I've looked at your records from Junior High, and you were a straight-A student just a few months ago. What happened over the summer that changed all of that?"

Danny knew Mr. Lancer was on to him. The teacher could see the defeat flash over the kid's face. Denying that something had happened would be ineffective at this point, and both of them knew it. Danny's head hung low and took the moment to think over everything that he could say in response. It was only a few seconds before he slowly looked up Mr. Lancer. He then stated simply, "I can't tell you,".

That reaction was somewhat expected. After all, what's a superhero without a super identity? But there was a deeper connotation behind Danny's words that made Mr. Lancer wonder if his student had another, much darker reason for keeping his secret to himself.

"Would you care to elaborate?" He suggested lightly, trying not to sound too curious.

Danny shook his head. "I can't," The boy repeated.

Mr. Lancer sighed. Part of him wanted to stop interrogating the boy. After all, it was none of his business, and Danny seemed to be doing relatively fine no matter what obstacle he faced in either form. Sure, Fenton might not have been doing that well in school, but he still had friends and family who cared for him. And Phantom hadn't killed himself or anyone else, yet. So, as far as Mr. Lancer was concerned, Danny could handle whatever he had gotten himself into.

But another side of him knew that he was a teacher. A responsible adult. He was in a position that could let him actually be helpful with whatever was going on. And that side of Mr. Lancer's conscious reasoned that, with everything that Phantom probably had to experience every day, some serious scarring had been done to Danny. No teen could handle anything like that without knowing that they have someone, besides fellow teens, helping them.

He had to try just a few more times. _I don't care how predetermined this kid is. I'm going to get this 'confession' out of him. It's for his own good, after all,_Mr. Lancer convinced himself.

"I just don't want you to get hurt or anything," He began explaining sincerely. Danny raised an eyebrow as the teacher continued, "I'm not as unfeeling, as indifferent, or as clueless as the other students might make me out to be, you know. And if you're doing something… dangerous, or-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on!" Danny's eyes widened in disbelief. "It's not drugs or gangs or abuse or anything like that!" He defended with palms raised, telling Mr. Lancer to back off.

The teacher tilted his head, never taking his scrutinize gaze off of Mr. Fenton.

"I never said it was," He challenged.

Danny's mouth closed stubbornly. He sat in silence, returning Mr. Lancer's stare. He remained as unwavering as ever.

Mr. Lancer had originally wanted Danny to tell him about his heroic activities. The teacher didn't want to tell Danny that he knew already; he had to establish trust first. But the teen seemed too unwilling to give anything away. It was clear that even a little push wasn't going to get reluctant Danny talking.

The prolonged silence allowed Mr. Lancer's doubts to etch their way back into his mind. What if he had gotten it all wrong? What if there really was nothing bothering Mr. Fenton – other than ordinary teen problems? What if, by continuing to question Mr. Fenton, he was just going to end up making a fool of himself? But the teacher knew that he was right. All he had to do was ease the information from Mr. Fenton, even if that meant spoon-feeding the opportunity to him.

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat, folded his hands in his lap, and broke eye-contact. He thought over what he was going to say one more time. This tactic was his absolute last resort, and there was a very good chance that it would just make Danny retreat even deeper into his confining shell. But it was the only idea Mr. Lancer could come up with. It had to work.

Finally, he spoke up. His words came out slowly, and, for the first time, some nervousness found its way into his voice. "What if I were to tell you, Danny, that I might already have some ideas as to what has caused your academic downturn?"

Danny's eyes grew even wider for a second, but he hid his alarm with a semi-relaxed façade. "No. Trust me. Whatever ideas you have, they're probably wrong."

"And why would that be?"

Once again, Danny's face held the expression of panic. He had practically admitted blatantly that something dangerous was, indeed, going on. The panic, however, was short-lived, and he expertly smoothed it over with a dead-pan look. He shrugged. "It's… complicated?" It had come out more like an unsure question than a fact, which was probably unintended.

But Mr. Lancer just leaned back into his chair, not wanting to push another question on the clearly anxious teen. "I see," was all he said.

They had reached yet another dead end. And the more dead ends the conversation hit, the more that Mr. Lancer became certain that Danny was hiding his identity for less obvious reasons, which got him thinking.

A thought hit Mr. Lancer, a thought that made complete sense. Danny's parents… They were ghost hunters, after all. Danny must have felt like he had to hide his ghostly identity from them to keep himself safe.

And maybe, for some dark reason, he was trying to keep them safe, too.

_He's an adolescent ghost who tried his best to keep the city safe from specter threats,_ Mr. Lancer reasoned. _So he has a lot of enemies. To Fenton, maybe his secret getting out is much more than him getting unwanted trouble or even fame. Maybe it's to protect the ones he cares for. His friends, his family…_Mr. Lancer sighed, resisting the urge to put his face in his hands.

_Danny, what have you gotten yourself into?_

Mr. Fenton seemed itching to leave the classroom. His hand was reaching down to grab his backpack. His eyes were glued to the door. There was absolutely no way that he was going to open up when he wanted to leave so badly. Mr. Lancer knew that there was only one other thing he could do.

"Danny, before you are dismissed, there is something else I would like to for us to talk about."

_Should I tell him? _

More doubts found their way into the teacher's head.

_How will Danny react, knowing that everything he has worked for – keeping his secret a secret – has been soiled so easily? The boy might panic; who knows what he thinks his parents could do to him? With all that power, who knows what he's capable of when feeling threatened? He could lash out, or, even worse, become distant form everyone he knows…_

Mr. Lancer finally decided that he couldn't allow that to happen. It was a whim, really, the new resolution that Mr. Lancer made to himself. And before he could dare question it, words were already leaving the teacher's mouth.

"I want to talk to you about giving easy extra credit assignments."

Danny looked at him quickly, too surprised to consider the full reasons behind the proposal. Mr. Lancer was a little surprised himself, but before he could stop or reconsider what he was truly saying, his mouth was already working on autopilot.

"I know a lot is on your plate, Danny," He continued, "And sometimes… I admit it; sometimes I've been very hard on you. I don't act so difficult to any of my other students, and your situation seems to be very different from theirs."

Mr. Lancer half-way cringed on the inside… Danny would probably question that last sentence later, when he thought back over their full conversation. After all, he didn't know that Mr. Lancer knew anything, so in his mind, the teacher had no way of knowing how special his situation was.

_Oh Well. Let him stew on it,_ Mr. Lancer mentally shrugged.

He continued, "I will make some extra credit available to you over the next few days. I could even give you tutoring sometime – whenever your schedule allows it, of course. I may even cut you some slack every now and again for being late… but only if your effort is clearly present in the work that you are able to complete. Understand?"

Danny nodded slowly in shock, his mouth gaping.

"Now…" Mr. Lancer sighed, spending a moment to let his brain catch up with his mouth. "Go eat some lunch. Hang out with your friends!"

As if snapping out of a trance, Danny scrambled to get his stuff together. He darted clumsily for the hallway, the shock still taking it's time wearing off. With one last uncertain, yet thankful look thrown over his shoulder, the door closed with a soft bang.

Mr. Lancer was left in solitude for the rest of the period. He thought over the crazy week's events, and he found himself smiling.

Mr. Fenton was no longer his most disappointing student. He was the most commendable. The teen had to balance school, family, friends, and his difficult work on his young shoulders. Not only that, but he was doing his best to keep his town and everyone he cared for safe, all while keeping the biggest secret known to man. But now, Mr. Lancer had to keep a secret of his own.

_Why does Danny have to know that I know anything?_He wondered. _Lending a hand from the sidelines might just be the biggest help of all._

Mr. Lancer smiled again. He felt very confident and proud of the fact that he had helped his special student in the best way he possibly could.

Finally, he had done something right.

**_The End_**

**~oOo~**

**A/N: **T**his is the end of****_Autograph_****! It's over! You all have survived the entire journey! It's time to celebrate (Or cry in a corner if you were really****_that_****fond of to my little story), and not leave with a bitter, apologetic taste in your mouth! :P**

**My sincerest 'Thanks!' go out to everyone who has tagged along since the beginning, who has story/author alerted this, and/or who has story/author favorited this. If you have an account that allows you to PM, and if I didn't send you a personal thank-you for a review, then I will try to do better in the future! I thank you one and all!**

**Disclaimer: And, guys… I don't own DP. If you haven't caught on to that yet, then… I'll pray for you.**

**This is a shout out to the best-est beta-reader in the word, sapphireswimming! She has really inspired me throughout this whole experience, and was always there to remind me to keep chugging along!**

**Thank you so much for finishing my story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it!** **Ciao!**


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